The Staying
by MTad902002
Summary: Percy Jackson was a coward. Just a coward. All he could do was run... so that's what he does. New title!
1. Chapter 1

When he slapped me, I actually felt the pain, which surprised me.

Usually when my old man whipped me, I felt nothing because after 16 years of it, you get used to the pain. As usual, he was hollering at me for being too stubborn to clean my room. Stupid reason, actually, but that's Gabe Ugliano for you.

Right now you're probably thinking: _Your last name is Ugliano?_ No, I assure you it's not. That's not my name at all. It's that pig I call my step dad's last name.

No, my name is Percy Jackson


	2. Chapter 2

I was laying down on my bed in my room, which was covered with old beer bottles and cigarettes. Ol' Ugly wasn't back from the club yet, so it was just me.

I knew that I should try to get some sleep, because I was supposed to be at work by six, and it was currently twelve. But that night I just couldn't; all I could do was lay there and stare at the dark ceiling above me. For some reason, I felt a tugging feeling in my heart, like today was a big day and I was supposed to be happy. I racked my brain, but nothing showed up. December 12th, December 12th... Yep a total blank.

I sighed and rolled on my side, figuring that I should at least get two hours of sleep before work. Just as I closed my eyes, I heard the front door swing open. A loud belch announced Gabe's arrival.

"Hey, Fishy!" He shouted. I sighed again. Gabe had a knack of coming up with stupid names for me every other day just to annoy me. They did, but I wasn't going to let him know that.

But apparently not everyone thought that. As soon as the words came out of his mouth, a very large, high pitched giggle filled the air. I mentally rolled my eyes. So he had brought home another one.

"Aye Fishy didn't you hear me?! Get over here!"

I pulled myself out of my bed and into the living room. Gabe was sitting on the couch, with his arm around a drunk girl about ten years younger than him. You see, the only time Gabe can actually get a girl was when they were drunk, because he is in no way handsome. He's got a big pot belly the size of a bowling ball, and a completely bald head. His eyes are so tiny, you can barely see them. His teeth are yellow and chipped. Yep, the stupid idiot could never get a girl.

_Except for mom._ A voice inside my head said. But I shook my head.

_Not now._I told it.

"Well Fishy Boy?" He growled. "How about a beer then?"

I gritted my teeth and grabbed a cool beer from the fridge and shoved it at him. He took it without a thanks and shooed me away.

I went silently to my room. I knew better than to argue with him. I knew what the consequences were. He did it to my mother. He could do it to me.

Murder was just a game to him.


	3. Chapter 3

I woke up early for work the next day.

I stumbled around my room, trying to find my "uniform", which was just jeans and a black shirt with sneakers. When I finally got dressed, I walked out of my room into the kitchen, hoping to get some breakfast in. Thank God, Gabe wasn't awake yet, probably still with his new slutty girlfriend.

I poured myself a glass of milk. I chugged it down then glanced at the clock. 5:50. No time to eat anything.

I marched out the door of our apartment, not bothering to leave a note for Gabe. I could run away and join a terrorist group and he wouldn't care. Not as long as he had his beer.

So that's the question. Why don't I run away? It's because I'm a coward. I didn't have the courage to live on the streets. And it is also because this was the apartment I grew up in. Gabe wasn't allowed to own it.

I finally reached the "Food Den" (great name), the run-down, shabby old restaurant where I worked. Nobody ever came here, so it wasn't the best place to work. But it was a job, and a job was the only thing keeping me from living on the streets. Gabe doesn't work for shit; all he does is drink beer and play poker.

Anyway, I pushed open the door and stepped inside. The restaurant had ancient, splintered, wood tables, each with a groaning table fan above them, struggling to keep the room cool. The floor was covered with dust. Occasionally, you could see rats scurrying acroos the floor, food in their mouths. Just another reason not to eat here.

Bill, the restaurant's owner, glanced up when I entered.

"Morning Percy," he mumbled.

"Morning Bill," I replied cheerfully. He was an older man, in his mid-fifties, with a wisp of gray hair and glasses perched on the tip of his skinny nose. His body was thin and frail, his eyes a sad, dark, blue color. Despite his appearance, you couldn't help but like Bill, especially when you hear his story.

Bill was once a rich, rich man, with a beautiful wife and a big house. Everything in his life was perfect. He was a successful business man, his wife was pregnant with their first child, everything was great. But one day, Bill woke up without his wife sleeping next to him, only a note with two words: I'm sorry.

After that Bill stopped caring. He lost all his money. He lost his house. He lost everything. But all that mattered to him was losing his wife.

I guess the reason why it hit me so hard was because it reminded me of mom. Of how she was once a happy, beautiful woman, but then her parents died and everything came crashing down. Then she met my dad, and things started to look up, but he left her too, with a broken heart and an unborn child she wasn't ready to take care of. Alone. Completely alone.

"Percy?" Bill's voice shook me out of my thoughts.

I shook my head. "Sorry. What did you say?"

"I was asking you if you could wipe down the counter," Bill said. "It's getting awfully dirty."

I nodded. "Of course," I said. I grabbed a rag off of a bucket and began wiping. At least there was one thing I could do to help Bill


End file.
